


Gargalesis, giggles, and gadgets

by littleweedwrites



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femlock, Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 23:54:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6929530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleweedwrites/pseuds/littleweedwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was a lovely prompt from @officialbooksmell on Tumblr!</p><p>Hope you all like it!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gargalesis, giggles, and gadgets

 

Jon returned to 221B after a locum shift looking forward to a glass of wine, snuggling up on the sofa with Sherlock and watching some rubbish film (well she’d watch; Sherlock would tut, roll her eyes, and point out inaccuracies, when she wasn’t ‘listening’ rather than watching). Instead she was met by a disgruntled landlady, muttering to herself as she trotted down the stairs. In her hands were the dismembered remains of what was obviously once an expensive steam iron; they looked decidedly charred and a bit well… melty?

 “That girl. I’d have had this one twelve years in the spring; best iron I’d ever had, Maureen bought me this for my birthday... I’ll have to ring her and explain, least she’ll see the funny side.”

“You ok Mrs H?”

“Oh hello Jon dear. Yes I’ll be fine, my favourite household appliance after the hoover is ruined but there you go; what can you do?” Mrs. Hudson shrugged genially and smiled.  “Though I’ll be adding the cost of the replacement to your rent, my love. Now quick, you catch her before she ruins anything else.”

The sound of cracking plastic and a cry of ‘YES’, echoed down the stairwell.

“I think it might be a bit late for that Mrs. Hudson.” Jon half grimaced. “Though one day I might come home to a tidy flat… Well I can dream. See you later,” she called as the older woman disappeared into 221a.

She bounded up the stairs in order to see exactly what type of carnage Sherlock had dealt to their abode this time.

She wasn’t really sure what she was expecting, something to do with mangled electronics but what met her sights when she made it to the first floor was something else indeed. Strewn across the living room were fifteen large plastic boxes brim packed with defunct technology.

“Ok.” Jon found herself saying out loud, “We started a scrap dealership love?”

“Obviously not…” came the reply from the kitchen were Sherlock stood blowtorch in hand and her goggles on. “I’m just testing out some theories for that case with the fire.”

“And all of this came from…?” Jon gestured towards the mountain of gadgetry.

“Pulled a few strings, someone in charge of the waste electronics for MI5 owed me a favour.”

“They have someone in charge of waste electronics?”

“EC requirement apparently”

“I think you mean the EU Sherlock”

“That’s what I said…” The younger woman waved her hand impatiently, and continued scrutinising her latest victim. It was only then that Jon’s eyes focussed on the what was currently being dissected on the kitchen table.

“Sherlock.” She said tersely.

“Yes, Jon?” The detective turned off the blowtorch and put it down, but continued to squint at what looked like a circuit board.

“Is that my sandwich toaster? My favourite one? The cow one that moos when it’s done?”

“Ah yes… about that… It _was_ your sandwich toaster…” A look of realization dawned on the brunette’s face as if she’d suddenly remembered something important and she started looking decidedly sheepish. “It’s now part of a delicate experiment into the flammability of...”

Sherlock trailed off under the scrutiny of Jon whose face now wore an expression signifying: ‘I’m decidedly unimpressed with you and I communicate that better without words’.

“I’ll just tidy this up and…” Sherlock began again, dropping her head to her chest and starting to quickly attempt to form some semblance of order out of bits of sandwich toaster; she looked absolutely dejected and Jon couldn’t help but feel sorry for her.

In a few short strides Jon was right next to the detective, and instinctively put her hand up under her partner’s chin in a comforting way, but as she did so Sherlock emitted a half strangled snicker noise as Jon’s fingers brushed against her neck and she flinched away with a half-smile forming on her lips.

“Are you ticklish?” Jon had never thought to tickle Sherlock before so this reaction had gone undetected in this new layer of their relationship.

“No, don’t be absurd.” Sherlock pouted haughtily but there was a wariness in her eyes that told Jon she wasn’t quite telling the truth.

Jon quickly saw her chance and pinned Sherlock’s wrists into her right hand whilst testing out Sherlock’s neck to see if she could elicit another giggle. Sherlock howled and her face broke into magnificent smiles.

“No Jon. That’s enough.” Sherlock’s voice cracked as she shrieked.

“Er no! I need revenge for the sandwich toaster.” Cried Jon as she wrestled Sherlock to the kitchen floor. She had a suspicion that just the threat of her hands near Sherlock’s armpits would be enough to send her girlfriend into hysterics and was delighted to be proved right and when she actually tickled her the peals of laughter rang out through the flat.

“No… Really… That’s enough.” Sherlock tried breathlessly to get her love to stop but Jon was having none of it.

“But, the toasties Sherlock. Think of the toasties.” She attacked Sherlock’s stomach next and the prone woman just squealed with laughter.

“If you love me…” Sherlock tried to speak but her chest and face were both aching. And she surrendered herself to Jon.

After a little while Jon stopped tickling her and kissed her hard on the mouth both of them red faced now and winded. Jon rolled over to lie next to her favourite person in the entire world.

“Ok so I loved the sandwich toaster…” Jon sighed, “But I love you more. Shall I ring for out for Thai tonight?”

“Well… you can but the doorbell isn’t working so you’ll have to wait on the stairs for it…”

“And where is the doorbell?”

“I think it’s in the red box? Or maybe the blue one?”


End file.
